by K. J. Dahlen
Right when I thought I couldn’t take any more, he pushed on further. The car beneath us rocked, its old chassis squeaking loudly in protest, but we paid it no heed. He melded my body into his. We were one. His corded muscles melted my quivering stomach. His pecs pressed fiercely into my tits. His coarse chest rubbed against my sensitive nipples.
There was so much heat and friction billowing out between us that I was surprised the car we were fucking on didn’t catch fire.
Remy’s face finally flickered, his body trembling with ecstasy. He screwed his eyes shut and buried his head in my welcoming chest. Grunting, his cock slid out and exploded, hot white cum streamed all over my stomach.
I felt dirty and amazing! I didn’t want this to end, even if I knew I couldn’t take anymore.
He rolled off, but lay next to me close enough that our arms touched, his slick cock standing rigidly defiant. Seeing the moonlight glisten off his sweaty body as he pulled in those heavy breaths was indescribable.
I tried to stand and although I knew I still had legs, fuck if I knew where the hell they were. I gained my strength and tried again to get up and clean myself off, but Remy’s strong arm stopped me. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Fuck! I can’t, not yet! Give a girl a minute.
It wasn’t that. Remy used more of an intimate delicateness when he pulled me on top of him. His hard cock mashed vertically against me, rising up my stomach. The slightest touch of his bent thigh along the sensitive lips of my pussy racked me with shivers. He felt it and that horrible smug smile clawed its way over his face again.
He was torturing me... and I loved every agonizing second.
We just looked at each other. This bliss, it couldn’t last. We both knew. It was insane to think that this—us—could survive in such a harsh world. He drew me in tighter. My hair matted against his chest.
What would become of us?
Eventually, I found the strength to tear myself away. I gathered my clothes and found his shirt. It was stained with blood, dirt and who knows what else. “May I?” I asked, hoping to use it as the rag it now was.
“Yeah, that’s a burner now.”
When we cleaned ourselves off, I laid back down next to Remy. Next to this man that couldn’t exist in my old world. This is where I was meant to be. Here, with him, everything felt right. It was all worth it. My aunt and uncle, Top, Muse, Rio, the dancing, everything. Every damn bit of it. All that horror drove me into his arms. One day in his world, and my soul had hardened.
I was a different person now.
“So does this make me your old woman?” I teased, trying not to think about exactly how much I’d changed.
“It’s Ol Lady.” Remy chuckled, squeezing my thigh.
“Remy…” I swallowed, my curiosity outweighing my anxiety. “Why did you do this for me?”
Remy rolled his head back and looked up at the night sky. It was dark enough in this part of the parking lot that you could see the moon and stars shining brightly. “It’s been so long since I had anything to hold on to, even before Bren’s death. I think I needed this.” He turned to look at me. “I needed to remember that I could care.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
Did that mean he cared…about me?
Quick footsteps pattered down the pavement toward us tearing us from our moment in time.
Remy shot up and reached around for his gun before realizing it was in the bed of the pickup truck. He slid on his pants and dashed toward the truck, but the bikers were on him before he could reach it.
I gathered up the tangled mess of my clothes and hid behind the car. I would help if the opportunity presented itself, but I didn’t know how to fight or anything. The best thing I could do would be to stay out of Remy’s way. I needed to trust in Remy, and let him do what he did best. My throbbing pussy was quick to remind me that fighting was the thing he did second best.
Remy was outnumbered two to one, but that didn’t deter him. He fought like a cornered animal. I was thankful, but still found it odd that none of the other bikers had any weapons out. There were plenty in the bar and I could see that Skinpipe had a knife sticking out of his pocket.
Was it some code of a twisted honor system?
Remy immediately knocked Skinpipe on his ass, then focused on Tee. From their interactions in the bar, it was pretty clear that these two were friends. Why was Tee out here? If Remy was going to be attacked, I figured it would’ve been by just Rio’s thugs.
It was the wheeze that caused me to spin on my heels and probably even saved my life.
Rio was back with a knife, and looked like a villain from a horror film. Apparently, that weaponless code of conduct didn’t apply to me. The layers of red-stained gauze didn’t do much to dull the wreck that his face was now. Rio resembled poorly wrapped hamburger meat. His face was a bloody, pulpy mess and his one remaining eye was fiery with single-mindedness. He must’ve been high on something, because after the beating he took by Remy there was no way a normal man would even be walking around.
I didn’t think this was about me anymore. Rio was just trying to wound Remy any way he could. I threw myself out of the way; Rio’s thrust skewered the sheet metal, side panels of the car. I dodged, but the creep was hot on my heels. I narrowly slunk away and was barely able to outpace Rio. I wanted to scream for Remy, but he already had his hands full.
I dove into the back of the pickup and frantically started searching for Remy’s revolver. That was my only hope now.
Rio reached over the side of the truck’s bed and slashed at me. The very tip nicked my thigh. Despite the coursing adrenaline, the cut hurt like hell! I didn’t want to imagine what he would do when he caught me. I kept searching, but it was so dark that I couldn’t see anything. Things were growing desperate.
Where the fuck was it?
“Nowhere to run now, cunt.” Rio stepped up on the down tailgate of the truck and loomed over me, knife glinting in the moonlight. His weight caused the truck to lurch and a piece of scrap metal shifted reflecting a little light off the barrel of Remy’s revolver.
I reached for it, cutting my hand up on the jagged, rusted corners of scrap. Whirling around, I fired as quickly as I could, flinching as I pulled the trigger.
The bang was way louder than I thought it would be.
Remy and the other two guys broke off the fight to regard me with surprise.
Rio took the slug squarely in the chest. The freakshow gaped in mute horror, eye opened wide in disbelief then tumbled backwards off the truck.
I’d just killed someone!
“Rio!” Skinpipe yelled.
“Fuck!” Tee put a hand over his head and turned away, no doubt wondering how he was going to explain this to Deadeye.
Remy walked up and took the gun out of my shaking hands.
“Remy, this has gone way too fucking far!” Skinpipe was in mild shock.
“Did Top put you up to this?” The way the words came out, Remy meant it as a statement not a question.
“Yeah, of course he did! He’s your brother, Rem. He’s just looking out for you. This bitch has you all fucked up, man. Pretty pussy or not, she is a witness to a murder, that you committed! She’s gotta die, bro. You know we’re right!” Tee pleaded with Remy.
“Holy shit, the motherfucker is still alive! Tee, get over here and give me a hand,” Skinpipe squealed and ran over to Rio.
Remy pointed the pistol at them, stopping their progress.
Skinpipe immediately threw his hands up. He’d seen firsthand through Rio what Remy was capable of. “Easy! You know the rules. Throwin’ down is one thing but weapons are strictly not allowed against members!”
“When Deadeye finds out that Top went behind his back, they’re going to nail you all to the wall too, Tee.” Remy ignored Skinpipe, and let the words hang ominously.
“C’mon Rem,” Tee replied. “Deadeye is on his way out. Everyone knows it. He just wanted to stretch his muscles in there, for old tim
e’s sake, is all. Shit, especially now. If Rio goes down, Top’ll probably go national.”
“Top’s not going to let this stand. Star’ll be dead next time he lays eyes on her.” Remy was talking more to himself than the other two.
“Yeah, so what?” Skinpipe barked. “What’s some bitch, when it comes to family?”
“Family? Bren was family.” Remy growled, grinding his heel into Rio’s chest wound. The monster was barely sucking air. Spasms riddled Rio’s body. He couldn’t find the vocal chords to scream, but he did find the strength to stop convulsing when Remy put the gun barrel to his forehead. “Rio is not.”
“Rem, you pull that trigger and every single Steel Veins chapter will be gunning for you. That’s not a war you can win, man. Just walk away and let me do what needs to be done. I’m begging you, bro.” Tee took a few slow steps toward me.
Remy stood up straight, pulling the gun away from Rio.
This decision came down to the life he’d always known. Brothers, by blood and by patch, or me—a stupid girl he’d only known for a day.
I stopped myself from calling his name. I might have been able to sway him if I said anything, but I knew if I really were in love with this man, I would have to let him decide for himself. Even if that decision was to turn his back on me—even if I had to pay for my silence with my life.
“All pity choked with custom of fell deeds. And Caesar’s spirit, ranging for revenge, with Ate by his side come hot from hell, shall in these confines with a monarch’s voice,” Remy quoted from something that sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“Remy...” Tee nervously reached for his gun.
“Cry ‘Havoc,’” Remy’s eyes burned as he had made his decision. “And let slip the dogs of war.”
“Remy, no! Don’t—” Tee wasn’t quick enough. Remy raised and fired twice. Tee took a round in the chest, crumpled in a heap and Skinpipe’s head exploded. Then Remy looked down at Rio. “That this foul deed shall smell above the earth with carrion men, groaning for burial,” he finished the quote.
Rio’s eye went wide as he tried to gurgle out a protest.
“We all groan.” Remy fired.
“That passage, was that Shakespeare?” I asked stupidly, in a daze from all the violence.
Was I already growing numb to it?
“We don’t have much time until more come out to investigate. We need to go.” Remy ignored me and searched the bodies. He took whatever valuables he could, then grabbed my arm. I could see the concern for me etched across his face.
With those three gunshots, Remy had closed an important chapter in his life.
“Things are going to get really bad. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to protect you through what comes next.” His intensity startled me as he pulled me along towards his Kawasaki.
I tried my best to keep up, but my legs were still weak from the sex and the battle. “What comes next?” I was almost too afraid to ask, but I had to know.
It was only after he’d helped me onto the bike, that he answered, “Deadeye is going to send kill teams out for me and this time it’ll be so much worse. He’s going to unleash some real monsters. The baddest men the Steel Veins have. They’re going to be ruthless, Star.”
“How can you be so sure?” I asked.
Remy’s face hardened even more, then he kissed me. It felt like it was for the last time. That had me really worried. He kicked up the side stand and started the bike. “Because I led one of those teams.”
The engine almost muffled his reply. I almost wish it had.
Kill teams? I’d seen how easily Remy was able to kill and had I not seen him throw everything away to save me, I would have feared that I could be next. Even still, I couldn’t shake the feeling there was still so much about him I didn’t know. Murder is the type of darkness that doesn’t shed so easily from the soul. What depths would he be truly capable of in pursuit of what he thought was necessary?
What kind of monster had I fallen in love with?
As darkness and uncertainty took us, I squeezed his body in front of me with everything I had left.
Muse’s place was a shining speck at our backs. Danger closed in at every turn, and the odds were stacked heavily against us. We made our decision. We chose each other.
Let them come and get us.
END OF PART ONE
The Steel Veins MC Romance Series
Bestselling Author
Jackson Kane
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COMING IN MAY 2018
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About Jackson Kane
Jackson Kane is a professional stuntman, athlete, romance author, and above all else, a hopeless romantic. From American Ninja Warrior, to some of your favorite films, Jackson brings a unique writing style forged from countless harrowing adventures.
He’s a lover of travel, his fans, his romance author peers, dulce de leche, and all things beautifully weird and interesting. He invites you to relax, have a whiskey sour and let him thrill and excite you in a way no other author can. Jackson will show you what the world looks like through the eyes of a genuine Bad Boy. Come with him, and…
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Acknowledgments
Thank you for all of the support and encouragement from my friends and family to get back up on the horse and ride again.
Honey, my Daddy, thank you for supporting me on countless nights when I stared at my screen and nothing else.
Thanks to my kids for listening to me bounce possible twists off of them.
Thanks to Megan Burger who is my personal therapist each morning helping me work through every plot hole in this book and my real life.
Jackie Barton who held my hand on this one, popping into docs and encouraging me every day.
Bobby Kim who told me that I could write again. Turns out, he was right.
Jax and Fossbrook - who write with me and encourage me to my fullest potential.
Role playing is a huge part of my writing routine. Without the support and encouragement of my friends, Wil, Tillie, Payton, Dustin, Bryant and the rest of Camp Climax I wouldn’t have a place to explore writing. Role play groups like Camp Climax, Perfect Angels and Club Toxic help me grow characters and storylines. Strong writers like Jenna Tee, Bailey Emerson, Roman Vasiliev, and Chris Thompson build me up.
Real life helps my writing too! Thank you to all of my friends at Sins Center who encourage me to be myself. To mention only a few: Sue, Ron, Kat, Sluggo, Starfish, Krasner, Real Wickedness, Indian plume, Ed, Maureen, April, Richard, Mark, Todd, Karen, Bruce and Laura.
This book is dedicated to all the bad boys out there who make us good girls do very naughty things.
1
Dante
Franco Morelli was a fucking asshole. He’d been fucking with my family for my entire life. He and my father had been fighting over the same territory for their entire lives. In the olden days, Chicago had been run by one family, Carmine Giordano, but when Carmie died unexpectedly along with his three sons, he’d left no clear leader. My father, Sal Ranetti and Franco Morelli had been his Cappos. The two, had grown up together and were more than friends. They considered themselves
brothers.
They shared the city first, each controlling half, yet working together. They shared leadership and manpower. Each man would back the other in decisions and they never did anything without consulting the other. Then one day something happened to cause them to have a falling out. Neither man ever talked about it and anyone who knew what had happened, wasn’t talking either.
The two men ended their friendship, and though they still ruled Chicago’s underworld together, it was run like two separate families. Each stuck to his own territory at first, but as new blood came in, loyalty was lost and the territorial lines began to blur. At first it was just small things like dealing drugs or shaking someone down in the other’s territory, but then it escalated to stealing each other’s shipments and putting out hits. It was an all-out fucking war now.
I thought I was getting the upper hand on the Morelli family when I heard that one of their gun shipments was coming through one of the docks we controlled. It would be easy to intercept and we would have it checked in and on the street before Franco even realized it hadn’t shown up. It was an easy grab, too easy. I should have been more wary. I should have brought more back up. I should have been fucking shot and killed when Franco’s men showed up. It would have been preferable to what actually happened. Who ever said that dying was the worst thing has never been captured by his enemy.
I recalled being shot, and watching two of my men go down. One I knew was dead the other had been badly injured. I’d been shot in the shoulder, but I hadn’t given up. I wasn’t a pussy. I’d aimed my gun at the son of a bitch Marco, who helped run Franco’s crew and was about to pull the trigger. That was the last I remembered. Judging from the pounding in my head, someone had knocked me the fuck out. If I ever got free and if I ever found out who did it, I’d make sure to put a bullet in his head...after torturing the fuck out of him.